


Cry Baby

by genevievedarcygranger



Series: Hotch x Reader / Hotch x You [22]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Angst, Bisexual Aaron Hotchner, Bisexual Male Character, Bisexuality, Crying, Daddy Kink, Day 20, Day 20 Kinktober, Day 20 Kinktober 2020, Day 20 Kinktober 2020: Crying, Day 20 Kinktober: Crying, Day Twenty Kinktober, Day Twenty Kinktober 2020, Day Twenty Kinktober 2020: Crying, Day Twenty Kinktober: Crying, Day twenty, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Play, F/M, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kink, Kinktober, Kinktober 2020, Kinktober 2020: Crying, Kinktober: Crying, M/M, No Sex, One Shot, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert, Safeword Use, Safewords, Short One Shot, Song Lyrics, Song: Cry Baby (The Neighbourhood), Spanking, Sub Hotch, bisexual reader, dom reader, prompt: crying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:33:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27318556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genevievedarcygranger/pseuds/genevievedarcygranger
Summary: You and Hotch try something new, but it doesn’t end how either of you hope.
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner/Reader, Aaron Hotchner/You
Series: Hotch x Reader / Hotch x You [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1862236
Comments: 2
Kudos: 44





	Cry Baby

_"I think I worry a lot_

_I need to take it easy_

_I got this anxious feeling_

_But it goes away for a minute_

_When I'm with you breathing."_

\- "Cry Baby," _The Neighbourhood_

* * *

"Why don't we start with ten?" You said, and though your tone was light, it was more of an order than a suggestion. To be fair, it was Hotch's idea.

You and Hotch have known each other for about five years, and you've been dating for nearly a year already. It was only in the last four months that you and have Hotch have started experimenting with kink, neither of you having any first-hand experience with it beyond the bad example of its use in a case. Between the two of you, you'd done enough research to rival Reid, and you found that Hotch preferred to relinquish control, and you preferred to have all of it. It completely slipped you both out of your work roles, which worked great to have that almost-shared responsibility.

This was the first time you both were attempting punishment. You never had to before; Hotch was very obedient. He was a pleaser, and you were soft with him because you felt like everything else in the world wasn't. But he came to you asking to try out a punishment, just to see if he'd like it. Hotch liked other sources of pain in the bedroom like choking, gagging, hair-pulling, but nothing yet that looked like punishment.

So, you started in the most basic place you could think of, which is why Hotch was bent over the bed, naked with his cock untucked from his stomach and hanging between his legs. Coincidentally – not – you stood behind him with naught but your hand, but one of Hotch's belt was waiting nearby, if this went well. The hand would do for now.

Tilting your head to one side, you admired Hotch as he was, completely vulnerable and open before you. He'd blush if you told him this (you knew from experience), but he had the cutest little tush. He took care of his body fairly well for a man his age with plenty of exercise, but he had the leanness of a runner's body rather than the typical macho-man obsessed with muscle bulk and definition. Unfortunately, while he did try to take care of himself, Hotch also had the whippet thin tendency to skip meals or choose coffee over food. You both were working on that; it was one of your new roles as his caretaker. Perhaps, if Hotch continued to skip meals, this could be a way to punish him for it.

Since you had yet to move or say anything more, Hotch anxiously shifted the weight on his feet from foot to foot, though he refrained from saying anything. The slight movement caused the cutest little jiggle, and you reached out to smooth your hand over the small of his back. That made him jump slightly underneath you, from nerves you were sure. "Easy, baby boy. Daddy's gonna take care of you."

Hotch turned his head to the side until his cheek was pressed to the bedspread. Unmuffled, his voice still sounded weak from nerves as he answered you, "Okay, Daddy."

Even though he couldn't see it, you nodded and stepped back again, pulling your hand away. At the loss of your touch, Hotch tensed his muscles before immediately relaxing them again without you having to remind him. You waited a moment before you brought your hand down.

He jumped, but it was more from the sound than it was the pain. "One," he gasped, counting without prompting, "Thank you, Daddy."

Behind him, you raised an eyebrow in surprise, but didn't say anything. You weren't surprised that Hotch would come up with his own rules for something like this. For someone who wanted to give up control, Hotch held all the power, and you both knew it. Nothing happened unless he liked it. After a slight pause, you brought your hand down again.

Again, Hotch dutifully counted, "Two…Thank you, Daddy."

"Good, eight more," you encouraged. Your hand came down again, this time switching to the other cheek.

The blush that sprang up from your touch quickly matched the same heat and color as the other side. "Three…" It took him a moment to continue, breathless. "Thank you, Daddy."

You repeated this process until you reached eight, and Hotch had started writing on the bed. His cock was hard and leaky between his legs, but because it wasn't pinned underneath his body, it was craving stimulation. Hotch's ass was red all over, but there wouldn't be any bruises or marks the next day. You yourself were starting to get a little breathless, though it was more from arousal than exertion. Your palm stung, but the noises Hotch was making only reminded you of how he sounded with his cock in your mouth. You wanted more. "Color?"

Hotch's response was sharp and prompt, "Green!"

"Okay, baby boy." You pressed your hand over his ass and rubbed at the redness. His skin was hot to the touch as if from a fever. "We're gonna try kicking it up a little bit. You only have two more counts, okay? Do you want to try this with Daddy?"

He nodded before he remembered to answer verbally, "Yes, Daddy, please. I wanna – want to be good for you."

"There's Daddy good boy." You stepped away from him again, and this time he whined at the loss of your hand.

Feeling charitable, you decided to let it pass without comment as you picked up Hotch's belt from where it was laying on top of the dresser. The buckle tinkled slightly, and you knew Hotch heard from the way he twisted his head, half-tempted to turn in look. But he didn't look, instead choosing to tighten the grip his fingers had on the bedspread until his knuckles were white.

"Are you ready, baby boy?" You checked.

"Yes, Daddy."

With a half-grin, you snapped the belt together and watched Hotch jump. Then, once he had relaxed, you brought it down on his bottom over the fleshiest part.

The change was instantaneous.

Whereas before Hotch tossed his head and gasped, this time Hotch yelped and moved away from the touch. For a moment, you thought your heart stopped because you didn't like the noise that he made at all, and then you saw Hotch's shoulders start to shake. "Color?" He didn't say anything at first, and your heart started beating again, double-time to catch up. "Color, Aaron?"

"Y-yel-" Hotch cut himself off with a sniff. "Red."

As he pulled his legs up on the bed and crawled up to the pillows, you dropped the belt and dashed to the kitchen for an ice pack. By the time you came back, Hotch was curled up on his side in the fetal position, his face buried in one pillow while he had the other clutched to his chest. His cock was still hard between his legs, but you knew that wouldn't last if he was this upset. You slowed your pace as you approached him. "Aaron? Can I touch you?"

When Hotch lifted his face from the pillow, there were tears still clinging to his long, dark eyelashes. "Please?"

That was all the invitation you needed before you were climbing into bed, too. You kept the pillow between your bodies, but reached over it so you could press the ice pack to his tender bottom. "This might sting at first, baby, but it'll help you feel better and prevent any marks."

At the initial touch, he did hiss, but then he stopped and let his head drop down on the pillow again. You let the silence brew. Your eyes were trained on his face. He wasn't crying anymore, but you could tell he still felt awful by how he stared resolutely at some spot on your chin rather than your face.

Finally, Hotch spoke up again. "I…I didn't like that," he admitted to the rapidly darkening room.

"What didn't you like, Aaron? Did you not like any of it?"

"No," he answered easily enough, "No, I liked your hand, but I didn't like the belt."

You adjusted the grip you had on the half-melted ice-pack and shifted closer so you could press it to his other cheek. "Too much pain? Maybe we should have waited until the next time?"

Slowly, Hotch lifted one hand from the death-grip he had on the pillow and edged it towards you. You didn't move, wanting to give him space. He let his hand drop, still not touching you. "I don't think we can use a belt at all," he told you at last. "Or anything else."

"That's okay, Aaron," you soothed as naturally as breathing, "We don't have to do spankings."

"No, I want to do spankings," he argued, "but only with your hand. And not too much." Despite having just cried, there was a steel in his tone that was very reminiscent from work.

Your eyes darted over his face, looking for the answer. "Why, Aaron?"

It seemed that he wasn't going to tell you by the way he pressed his lips together into a thin, thin line. But his eyes were still soft and open, nothing at all like the flints they are when he is in agent-mode. Then the secret burst from his chest. "My dad used to hit me."

Before you could stop yourself, you sucked in air in surprise, eyes going round. You knew that Hotch had a troubled relationship with his father – hello, your dominant title – but you assumed it was because Hotch's father was the traditional hard-ass conservative who placed too much pressure on a young boy's shoulders to be something he isn't. After all, Hotch had to confess his bisexuality to you before you both started dating. You could see where there would tension in his childhood. But this was…something else.

Still, the more you thought about it – the more you profiled him, which made your stomach queasy – the more it started to fit. "Those marks on your back…"

Hotch's brown eyes were so sad as he finally met your eye. "They're from his belt-buckle, when he would be too mad to remember that he didn't want to leave marks." The way he said it so factually made you sick.

"I thought they were from an unsub or something from your SWAT days," you told him apologetically. "I'm sorry."

He made an odd shrugging motion that was contorted by his posture and the fact that he was laying on his side. "How could you have known?" Then he lifted his chin and insisted, "I still think we could use your hand, though, because it felt different. I didn't think of him at all, I just…I felt good with you because I trust you."

"Okay, but we'll have to wait and try again another day."

Seemingly happy with that, Hotch nestled back into the pillow. Then he was the one looking apologetic as he tucked his bottom lip between his teeth. "I'm sorry, too."

No longer able to hold yourself back anymore, you propped the ice pack on his hip and then lifted your half-frozen fingers to his face. To his credit, he didn't flinch when you pushed his hair off of his forehead. "You have nothing to apologize for, Aaron."

"No," he disagreed with you again, "I should have told you about that before we…played." His cheeks flushed red, and you pressed your chilled fingertips to the new blush.

"You only ever have to tell me what you need to tell me to be comfortable," you started, but then amended, "but I want you to know that you can tell me anything. I love you, Aaron."

He turned to press a kiss to your fingertips. "I love you, too."

Offering him a soft smile, you suggested, "How about a warm bath, baby? To feel better?"

His shyness returning, Hotch looked down at the pillow he had clutched to his chest, suddenly remembering his nakedness. His eyelashes were like a dark smudge, even against his dark under-eye circles. "With bubbles?"

Your smile brightened. "With bubbles."


End file.
